


Dates

by BlackCat46



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Arguing, Effie wants a date, F/M, Hayffie being Hayffie, Haymitch does not, Insecurity, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 22:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18726211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCat46/pseuds/BlackCat46
Summary: Effie wants to go to a bar in town with Haymitch, and gets upset when Haymitch just isn't giving in to her.





	Dates

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all. I've been writing for two hours now, and it turns out that exhaustion and a headache create things together. I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not, so I'm hoping you'll be the judges of that.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just like playing around with her characters.

"I just don't understand why you don't want to come with me," Effie sighs. "It's only a bar, you like those."  
  
"Effie, for the last time, I'm not interested. You're only going because you want to feel like a kid again," Haymitch groans. "You're not nineteen any more."  
  
"Thank you _so much_ for the reminder there, my love," she sighs. "I really wanted that. I want to go to the bar for a drink with the love of my life. Is that really so bad? I'm not going to get drunk and make out with some kid like I used to. I want to go, have a drink or two with _you_ , then make out with you. It's not as wild as it was when I was a teenager. In fact, the place probably won't have teenagers in there. It's Twelve, and we're nowhere _near_ cool enough to go in a bar where there are teenagers."

He rolls his eyes. "Can't we drink and make out here?" he asks.  
  
"Haymitch, I have been in this house for a month straight. I want to go out to drink with you tonight. Just this once, and next time, I'll be happy with grocery shopping," she whines. "Do I have to beg?"  
  
"You already are begging," he scoffs. "Look, Princess, you can go get wasted if that's what you want, but I want to be at home."  
  
"It won't be fun if you're not there," she huffs. "If you're not going, I'm not going, and that's not much fun when I'm climbing the walls."

He rolls his eyes. "Why are you so stubborn?" he asks, grabbing a glass from the cupboard.  
  
"I'm living with you, I have to be stubborn," she deadpans. Upon seeing him reach for the brandy, she sags. "But I see that my stubbornness is getting me nowhere. Another night in for us. Yay."  
  
She pads off upstairs, and the silence is worse than if she'd made a big exit. He grabs the brandy and follows her upstairs. He finds her sitting on their bed with a book in her hands, her glasses on, and curled into a ball. "Okay," he says slowly. "You're going to do that thing where you try to guilt me into coming out with you by pretending you don't want to go, aren't you?"  
  
"No," she says quietly. "I really do want to go. But since you're adamant that we don't, I can't go, so I'm staying here with my book. If you're in a generous mood, I wouldn't say no to some hot chocolate. If you're not, I'll go and make my own."

"I didn't say _you_ can't go, sweetheart. I just said I don't want to. You can still go," he tells her.

"Did you listen to me at all?" she asks sadly. "I wanted to go _with you_. Like a date night that you'd actually enjoy. But you don't want to, and there's no point in me going on my own, and that's why I'm not getting all dolled up. It's one thing to go out with your significant other, but going to the bar and drinking alone is just plain sad. I don't want some random men flirting at me. I want to be out with you. Anyway, we've settled that you're dead set against it, so we're not talking about it any more. Are you feeling generous enough to get me a drink, or am I getting my own?"  
  
He rolls his eyes at her, then says "Fine. Put your dress on, get yourself dolled up. We'll go."

"No," she says. "You don't want to, and that'll ruin it all. If you wanted to, I'd be desperate to get out, but you don't."  
  
"It's one night. If it makes you happy, then fine," he tells her. "Get dressed."  
  
She folds her arms. "I'm not doing this. The idea was stupid. I'm not forcing you into it, and you shouldn't offer things out of guilt. I've been asking for hours and hours, and only now, when I'm clearly upset, do you even _think_ to offer. No. You're not doing this. If you don't want to, we're not going," she says, then gets up. "I'll make my own hot chocolate."  
  
He grabs her around the waist and throws her at the bed, then crawls on top of her, holding her down. "If it makes you happy, Princess, we'll go out, and I'll be extra nice to you," he says. "Now, when I let you up, you're going to get yourself dressed, and we're going to go to that goddamn bar. Understand?"  
  
"No," she hisses. "I'm not going to let you do this. You're not sacrificing your own peace for my entertainment. In fact, forget I suggested it. You've been denying me all day. I refuse to let you just _drop it and go_ now. We are staying at home, and I'm having a hot chocolate."  
  
"Fine," he scoffs. "But don't expect me to offer to do things with you again. I'm only trying to make you happy. I can't win either way with you."  
  
"You could, if you just wanted to go out and do stuff with me when I offered things I know you like, but you deny me at every turn, unless I cry, then you offer to do the thing I suggested just so that you can have a peaceful life," she huffs. "I'll give you a peaceful life if that's what you want from me. All I ask in return is once or twice, you actually leave the house with me instead of hiding away like you're ashamed of having me."  
  
"Is that what you think it is? You think that my enjoyment of just being holed up with a pretty girl is me being ashamed of you?" he asks incredulously. "How much nail polish have you sniffed?!"  
  
"Nowhere near enough," she deadpans. "Every single time I've asked you to do things, you've said no, and half of those times, it would have been things you would have loved, had it been Katniss or Jo suggesting it. You don't seem to have a problem with going out drinking with them. But if I suggest it, it's _no, Princess, I'm not in the mood_ , or _can it, sweetheart, we're not doing that._ From your perspective, it's not that bad. From mine, it looks very much like you're ashamed of me. And honestly, I can't say as I blame you. You fought to rid the country of people like me, only to end up living with the one you didn't manage to squash out. That does look counterproductive, and you're probably sick of being called out for having me by people who were oppressed by the Capitol."  
  
He sighs softly, then kisses her forehead. "Look, I see how it can look like I'm ashamed of you, sweetheart. When you word it like that, it does seem like you're the one thing I'm ashamed of. But you're not. I'm proud of you, sweetheart. I like having a pretty little thing to show off. But that doesn't mean I _have_ to go out to show you off. I shouldn't have to take you out and show you off to be proud to have you. If I were ashamed of you, I'd have chucked you out. Katniss and Jo, I go out with them to protect them. You're not the sort to go out and get yourself wasted like they are. And maybe I'm not in the mood to do things like that. I'm a hell of a lot older than you are, Princess. An evening out for old guys like me is a dinner at some quiet restaurant. Might not be that way for you, hyper little thing that you are, but if you'd suggested a dinner date, that would have worked for you."  
  
"But you hate romance," she whispers. "I would have suggested that if I'd known you wanted to get all romantic with me."  
  
He kisses her nose gently. "Never said romantic," he chuckles. "I said a dinner date. We could do that."  
  
She smiles warmly at him. "Dinner sounds perfect," she says happily. "Why didn't you say that earlier instead of telling me to can it?"  
  
"Seeing your offended face is funny," he tells her, cupping her cheek. "Not to mention cute."  
  
"You're getting soft," she giggles.  
  
"Sweetheart, with you around, I'm _never_ soft," he chuckles, pressing closer to her.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, did that suck? I can't tell. Please let me know what you thought of it down there in that little comment box below. 
> 
> As always, if there's anything you want to see, any questions you have, or any constructive criticism (sometimes I really need that!), please let me know.
> 
> Much love and happiness to you all. Lots of love, Cat xxx


End file.
